Arden, for the first time in his life, paid no attention to Laura's
remonstrances when she tried to prevent him from going out in the rain,
and he would not hear of her accompanying him on any condition. He
assured her that with his fur coat, and in a closed carriage with a
foot-warmer, he was as safe as at home in the drawing-room, and he gave
her to understand that he had a small surprise in store for her, of
which all the effect would be spoiled if she went with him. Very
reluctantly she let him go. Even after he was gone, when she heard the
brougham rattling down the Via Gregoriana, she was tempted to open the
window and call the driver back. Then she reflected that she was
probably foolish in being so anxious, since he now seemed almost as well
as ever.
When he left the house, Arden drove to a certain studio, and then and
there bought a small picture which Laura had admired very much, and had
been two or three times to see. To the artist's surprise, he insisted
upon carrying it away with him at once, just as it was. Then he told the
coachman to drive to the Palazzo Savelli. He sent up his card and asked
to see Don Francesco, and at once received an answer, begging him to go
up stairs.
Francesco was very much surprised by the visit, and could not conceive
what had brought Lord Herbert Arden to him at eleven o'clock in the
morning. He awaited him in a vast and gloomy drawing-room in which there
was no fire. The walls were hung with old portraits of the Savelli in
armour, the carpet was of a sombre hue, and the furniture consisted of
three superb marble tables with carved and gilt feet, and sixteen chairs
of the style of Louis the Fourteenth's reign, all precisely alike, and
standing side by side against the walls. Francesco Savelli stood facing
the door, his yellow hair, blue eyes, and fresh complexion contrasting
strongly with the dark background. He was a fine-looking fellow, with a
mild face, a quiet manner, and a good deal of old-fashioned formality,
which latter, however, seemed to wear off every evening in society,
coming back as soon as he returned to the dim and shadowy halls of his
home.
The connexion between him and Arden was in reality so distant, that they
had never assumed even the outward forms of intimacy, though their wives
called each other sister. Savelli disliked Lord Herbert because he was a
cripple, and chiefly because he had married Laura Carlyon. Arden, on his
side, was more or less indifferent to Francesco, but treated him always
with a shade more warmth than an ordinary acquaintance, as being, in a
sense, a member of his wife's family.
Savelli came forward as Arden entered. The servant allowed the heavy
curtain to drop, closed the door, and went out, and the two men were
left alone.
"Good morning, my dear Arden," said Savelli, taking his hand. "I hope
you are quite well. Pray be seated."
"Good morning. Thanks." Both spoke in French.
They sat down, side by side, on the stiff, high-backed gilt chairs, and
each looked at the other.
"I have something especial to say to you," began Arden, in his calm and
even voice--a man quicker-witted than Savelli would have noticed the
look of determination about the smooth-shaven lips and the prominent
chin--the look of a man who will not be trifled with, and will say what
he means in spite of all difficulties and all opposition.
"I am entirely at your service," answered Don Francesco, politely.
"Thanks. I have thought it best to come to you directly, because my
business concerns your wife and mine, and it is better that we should
settle such matters between us without the intervention of others."
Savelli opened his eyes in surprise, but said nothing, only making a
slight inclination of the head in answer. Arden continued in the cool
and collected manner with which he had begun.
"A number of outrageous lies," he said slowly, "are in circulation
concerning my wife, and some of them concern myself. May I inquire
whether you have heard them?"
"It would facilitate matters, if you would tell me something of their
nature," observed Savelli, more and more astonished.
"There is no difficulty about that. I can even repeat them to you, word
for word, or nearly so. It is said, in the first place, that my wife is
very much in love with you--"
"With me?" cried Savelli, startled out of his formality for once.
"Yes--with you--and that she has loved you long. Secondly, it is said
that I am a confirmed drunkard, and that my wife leads a most unhappy
existence with me in consequence. It is further stated that she makes no
secret of this supposed fact, but complains loudly to her friends, and
especially selects you for her confidence in the matter."
"That is totally untrue," said Don Francesco, gravely. "She has never
spoken of you to me except in terms of the highest praise."
"I am aware that it is not true, but I am much obliged to you for your
very plain statement. I will go on. It is asserted that my wife has
given you to understand that she loves you, and that, if you would
consent, she would be ready to leave me and Rome in your company. These
things, it appears, are current gossip, and are confidently stated as
positive truths."
"I have not heard any of them, except some vague reports about yourself,
to the effect that you once took too much wine at the Gerano's house.
But Ghisleri made a scene about it at the club, and I have heard no more
of the absurd story."
"I did not know that Ghisleri had actively taken my part," answered
Arden. "But the story has now reached the form in which I repeated it.
For myself, I care very little. It is on account of its connexion with
the tales about my wife that I have told it to you."
"May I ask who your informant is?"
"My wife."
"And hers?"
"A reliable and truthful person, whom I shall not name at present. The
affair concerns you and me. I have not come to the most important point,
which will explain why I came to you."
"I supposed that you came, as to a connexion of the family, to ask
advice or assistance."
"No. That is not it. I do not need either, thank you. I come to you
because all these stories are distinctly traceable to Donna Adele
Savelli."
Francesco started violently, and almost rose from his seat, his face
flushing suddenly.
"Lord Herbert--take care!" he cried in a loud and angry voice, and with
a passionate gesture.
"Be calm," said Arden, in an unnaturally quiet tone. "If you strike me,
you will be disgraced for life, because I am a cripple. But I assure you
that I am not in the least afraid of you."
"You are wrong!" exclaimed Savelli, still furious, and turning upon him
savagely.
"Not at all," returned the Englishman, unmoved. "I came here to settle
this business, and I have not the smallest intention of going away until
I have said all I meant to say. After that, if you are inclined to
demand satisfaction of me, as is the custom here, you can do so. I will
consider the matter. I shall probably not exchange shots with you,
because I believe that duelling is wrong. But let me say that I do not
in the least mean to insult you, nor, as I think, have I been lacking in
civility to-day. I have given you a number of facts which I have every
reason for believing to be true. You will in all likelihood have no
difficulty in finding out whether they are true or not. If we, jointly,
are convinced that the statements are false, I shall be happy to offer
you my best apologies; if not, and if you are convinced that Donna Adele
has been slandering my wife, I shall expect you to act upon your
conviction, as a man of honour should, and take measures to have these
reports instantly and fully denied everywhere by Donna Adele herself. I
think I have stated the case plainly, and what I have said ought not to
offend you, in my opinion."
"It is certainly impossible to be more plain," answered Savelli,
regaining something of his outward calm. "As to what may or may not give
offence, opinions may differ in England and in Italy."
"They probably do," returned Arden, coolly. "It is not my intention to
offend you."
Francesco Savelli looked at the shrunken figure and the thin hands with
an odd sensation of repulsion and respect. He had been very far from
supposing that Herbert Arden possessed such undeniable courage and
imperturbable coolness, and not being by any means a coward himself, he
could not help admiring bravery in others. He was none the less angry,
however, though he made a great effort to keep his temper. He did not
love his wife, but he had all the Roman traditions concerning the
sacredness of the family honour, which he now felt was really at stake,
and he had all a Roman's dread of a public scandal.
"I must beg you once more to tell me by whom these stories were told to
Lady Herbert," he said, after a pause.
"I cannot do so, without consulting that person," answered Arden. "I do
not wish to drag other people into the affair. You will be able to find
out for yourself, and probably through members of your own family, how
much truth there is in it all."
"You positively refuse to tell me?"
"I have said so. If you wish to be confronted with the person in
question, I will consult that person, as I said before."
"And if I then, on my side, positively refuse to do anything without
having previously spoken to that person--to him or to her--what then?"
"In my opinion, you will be allowing a state of things to continue which
will not ultimately reflect credit upon you or yours. Moreover, you will
oblige me to take some still more active measures."
"What measures?"
"I do not know. I will think about it. And now I will wish you good
morning."
He got upon his feet, and stood before Savelli.
"Good morning," said the latter, very stiffly. "Allow me to accompany
you to the hall."
"Thanks," said Arden, as he began to move towards the door in his
ungainly, dislocated fashion, while Savelli walked slowly beside him,
towering above him by a third of his own height.
Arden shivered as he slipped on his fur coat in the hall, for it had
been very cold in the drawing-room though he had scarcely noticed the
fact in his preoccupied state of mind. While driving homeward, he looked
at the little picture as it stood opposite to him on the seat of the
carriage. It was one of those exquisite views of the Campagna, looking
across the Tiber, which Sartorio does so wonderfully in pastel.
"She will be glad to have it," said Arden to himself, "and she will
understand why I went out alone."
He was tolerably well satisfied with the morning's work. It had seemed
to him that there was nothing else to be done under the circumstances,
and he certainly did not choose the least wise course, in going directly
to Savelli. He did not regret a word of what he had said, nor did he
feel that he had said too little. As he anticipated, Laura suspected
nothing, and was delighted with the picture. She scolded him a little
for having insisted upon going out on such a morning, especially for her
sake, but as the clouds just then were breaking and the sunshine was
streaming into the room, she felt as though it could not have been a
great risk after all. Before they had finished luncheon, a note was
brought in. Laura laughed oddly as she read it.
"It is an invitation to dinner from Adele," she said. "It is for the day
after to-morrow, shall we accept?"
Arden's face grew thoughtful. He could not be sure whether the
invitation had been sent before his interview with Savelli, or since. It
was therefore not easy to decide upon the wisest course.
"Better to accept it, is it not?" asked Laura. "It is of no use to make
an open breach."
"No. It is of no use. Accept, dear. It is more sensible."
Neither of them liked the thought of dining at the Palazzo Savelli just
then, and Laura, at least, knew that she would find it hard to behave as
though nothing had happened. Both would have been very much surprised,
could they have known why they were asked, and that the idea had
originated with Pietro Ghisleri.
On the previous evening, Gerano had taken pains to see his daughter
alone at her own house, on pretence of talking to her about business.
With considerable skill he had led the conversation up to the required
point, and had laid a trap for her.
"Do you see much of the Ardens just now?" he asked.
"No. We do not meet often," answered Adele, with a little movement of
the shoulders.
"I wish you did. I wish you saw them every day," observed the Prince,
more gravely.
"Do you, papa? Why?"
"You might find out something that I wish very much to know. It would
not be hard at all. We are rather anxious about it."
"What is the matter?" asked Adele, with sudden interest.
"That is it. There is a disagreeable story afloat. More than one, in
fact. It has reached my ears on good authority that Arden drinks far too
much. You know what a brave girl Laura is. She hides it as well as she
can, but she is terribly unhappy. Have you any idea whether there is any
truth in all this?"
Adele hesitated a moment, and looked earnestly into her teacup, as
though seeking advice. The moment was important. Her father had brought
her own story back to her for confirmation, as it were. It might be
dangerous to take the other side now. Suddenly she looked up with a
well-feigned little smile of embarrassment.
"I would rather not say what I think, papa," she said, with the evident
intention of not denying the tale.
"But, my dear," protested her father, "you must see how anxious we are
on Laura's account. Really, my child, have a little confidence in
me--tell me what you know."
"If you insist--well, I suppose I must. I am afraid there is no doubt
about it. Laura's husband is very intemperate."
"Ah me! I feared so, from what I had heard," said the Prince, looking
down, and shaking his head very sadly.
"You see, the people first began to talk about it last year, when he was
in such a disgraceful condition in your house, and Pietro Ghisleri had
to take him home."
"Yes, yes!" Gerano still shook his head sorrowfully. "I ought to have
known, but they told me it was a fainting fit. And the worst of it is,
my dear Adele, that there are other stories, and worse ones, too, about
Laura. I hear that she is seriously in love with Francesco. Poor thing!
it is no wonder--she is so unhappy at home, and Francesco is such a fine
fellow, and always so kind to her everywhere."
"No, it is no wonder," assented Adele, who felt that she was launched,
and must go to the end, though she had no time to consider the
consequences.
"I suppose there is really some evidence about Arden's habits," resumed
the Prince. "Of course he will deny it all, and I would like to have
something to fall back upon--to convince myself more thoroughly, you
understand."
Adele paused a moment.
"Arden has a Scotch servant," she said presently. "It appears that he is
very intimate with our butler, who has often seen him going into the
Tempietto with bottles of brandy hidden in an overcoat he carries on his
arm."
"Dear me! How shocking!" exclaimed the Prince. "So old Giuseppe has
actually seen that!"
"Often," replied Adele, with conviction. "But then, after all--so many
men drink. If it were not for Laura--poor Laura!"
"Poor Laura,--yes, as I said, it is no wonder if she has fallen in love
with Francesco--such a handsome fellow, too! She has shown good taste,
at least." The Prince laughed gently. "At all events, you are not
jealous, Adele; I can see that."
"I?" exclaimed Adele, with indignant scorn. "No, indeed!"
Gerano began to feel his pockets, as though searching for something he
could not find. Then he rang the bell at his elbow.
"I have forgotten my cigarettes, my dear, I must have left them in my
coat," he said.
The old butler answered his summons in person, for Gerano knew the usage
of the house and had pressed the button three times, unnoticed by Adele,
which meant that Giuseppe was wanted.
"I have left my cigarettes in my coat, Giuseppe," said the Prince. Then
as the man turned to go, he called him back. "Giuseppe!"
"Excellency!"
"I want you to do a little commission for me. I have a little surprise
for Donna Laura, and I do not want her to know where it comes from. It
must be placed on her table, do you see? Now Donna Adele tells me that
you are very intimate with Lord Herbert's Scotch servant--"
"I, Excellency?" Giuseppe was very much astonished.
"Yes--the man with sandy grey hair, and a big nose, and a red face--a
most excellent servant, who has been with Lord Herbert since he was a
child. Donna Adele says you know him very well--"
"Her Excellency must be mistaken. It must have been some other servant
who told her. I never saw the man."
"You said Giuseppe, did you not?" asked the Prince very blandly, and
turning to Adele. She bit her lip in silence. "Never mind," he
continued. "It is a misunderstanding, and I will manage the surprise in
quite another way. My cigarettes, Giuseppe."
The man went out, and Adele and the Prince sat without exchanging a
word, until he returned with the case, Gerano all the time looking very
gentle. When the servant was gone a second time, the Prince's expression
changed suddenly, and he spoke in a stern voice.
"Now that you have sufficiently disgraced yourself, my daughter, you
will begin to make reparation at once," he said.
Adele started as though she had been struck, and stared at him.
"I am in earnest," he added.
"What do you mean, papa?" she asked, frightened by his manner.
"Disgraced myself? You must be mad!"
"You know perfectly well what I mean," answered her father. "I have been
playing a little comedy with you, and I have found out the truth. You
know as well as I that everything you have repeated to me this evening
is absolutely untrue, and there is some reason to believe that you have
invented these tales and set them going in the world out of jealousy,
and for no other reason, with deliberate intention to do harm. Even if
it were not you who began, it would still be disgraceful enough on your
part to say such things even to me, and you have said them to others.
That last vile little invention about the bottles was produced on the
spur of the moment--I saw you hesitate. You are responsible for all
this, and no one else. I will go into the world more in future than I
have done hitherto, and will watch you. You are to make full reparation
for what you have done. I insist upon it."
"And if I deny that I originated this gossip, and refuse to obey you,
what will you do?" asked Adele, defiantly.
"You are aware that under the present laws I can dispose of half my
property as I please," observed the Prince. "Laura has nothing--" He
stopped significantly.
Adele turned pale. She was terrified, not so much at the thought of
losing the millions in question, but at the idea of the consequence to
herself in her father-in-law's house. Casa Savelli counted upon the
whole fortune as confidently as though it were already theirs. She knew
very well how she should be treated during the rest of her life, if
one-half of the great property were lost to her husband's family through
her fault.
"You are forcing me to acknowledge myself guilty of what I never did,"
she said, still trying to make a stand. "What do you wish me to do?"
"You will everywhere say nice things about Laura and her husband. You
will say that you are now positively sure that Arden does not drink. You
will say that there is no truth whatever in the report that Laura is in
love with Francesco, and that you are absolutely certain that the Ardens
are very happy together. Those are the principal points, I believe. You
will also at once ask them to dinner, and you will repeat your
invitation often, and behave to both in a proper way."
Adele laughed scornfully, though her mirth had something of affectation
in it.
"Say pretty things, and invite them to dinner!" she exclaimed. "That is
not very hard. I have not the slightest objection to doing that, because
I should do it in any case, even if you had not made me this absurd
scene."
"In future, my child, before you call anything I do or say absurd, I
recommend you to think of the law regarding wills, to which I called
your attention."
Adele was silent, for she saw that she was completely in her father's
power. Being really guilty of the social misdeeds with which she was
charged, she was not now surprised by his manner. What really amazed her
was the display of diplomatic talent he had made, while entrapping her
into what amounted to a confession. She had never supposed him capable
of anything of the kind. But he was a quiet man, much more occupied in
dealing with humanity in the management of his property than most people
realised. No genius--certainly,--for if he had been, he would not have
told the whole story to his wife, as he had done on the previous
evening, but possessing the talent to choose the wise course at least as
often as not, which is more than can be said for most people. There was
something of the old-fashioned father about him, too, and he showed it
in the little speech he made before leaving Adele that evening.
"And now, my dear daughter," he said, rising and standing before her as
he spoke, "I have one word more to say before I go. You are my only
child, and, in spite of all that has happened, I love you very much. I
do not believe that you have ever done anything of the kind until now,
and I do not think you will fall into the same fault in the future. If
you do all that I have told you to do, I shall never refer to the matter
after this, and we will try and forget it. But you have learned a lesson
which you will remember all your life. Jealousy is a great sin, and
slander is not only vile and degrading, but is also the greatest
mistake possible from a worldly point of view. Remember that. If you
wish to be successful in society, never speak an unkind word about any
one. And now good night, my dear. Do what I have bidden you, and let us
think no more about it."
Having concluded his sermon, Gerano kissed Adele on the forehead, as he
was accustomed to do. She bent her head in silence, for she was so angry
that she could not trust herself to speak, and he left her at the door
and went home. All things considered, she knew that she had reason to be
grateful for his forbearance. She was quite sure that her father-in-law
would have behaved differently, and the stories she had heard of old
Prince Saracinesca's temper showed clearly that the race of violent
fathers was by no means yet extinct. She was not even called upon to
make a formal apology to Laura in her father's presence, which was what
she had at first expected and feared. Nothing, in fact, was required of
her except to avoid gossip and treat the Ardens with a decent show of
sisterly affection. She could scarcely have got better terms of peace,
had she dictated them herself.
But she was far too angry to look at the affair in this light and far
too deeply humiliated to forgive her father or the Ardens. If anything
were necessary to complete her shame, it was the knowledge that she was
utterly unable to cope with Gerano, who could disinherit her and her
children of an enormous sum by a stroke of the pen, if he pleased; and
he would please, if she did not obey him to the letter.
With a trembling hand she wrote the invitation required of her and gave
it to be taken in the morning. Then she sat down and tried to read,
taking up a great French review and opening it hap-hazard. The article
chanced to be one on a medical subject, written by a very eminent
practitioner, but not at all likely to interest Adele Savelli. But she
felt the necessity of composing herself before meeting her husband when
he should come home from the club, and she followed the lines with a
sort of resolute determination which belonged to her character at
certain moments. It was very hard to understand a word of what she was
reading, but she at last became absorbed in the effort, and ultimately
reached the end of the paper.
In the meantime, Francesco Savelli had spent his day in deliberately
thinking over the situation, and he had determined, very wisely, that it
would be a great mistake to speak to his wife on the subject. He went
over in his mind all the men of his acquaintance whom he might consult
with safety and with some prospect of obtaining a truthful answer to his
question, and he saw that they were by no means many. Wisdom and
frankness are rare enough separately, but rarer still in combination in
the same person, though a few are aware that the truest wisdom is the
most consistent frankness. Most of those of whom Savelli thought were
men considerably older than himself, and not men with whom he had any
great intimacy. The Prince of Sant' Ilario and his cousin, the Marchese
di San Giacinto, Spicca, the melancholy and sarcastic, and perhaps
Pietro Ghisleri--there were not many more, and the last named, who was
the nearest to him in point of age, was not, as Savelli thought, very
friendly to him. On the whole, he determined to wait and bide his time,
watching Adele carefully, and collecting such evidence as he could while
studiously keeping his own counsel. He saw very little of his wife on
that day, and when he next spoke to her about the Ardens, her manner was
so cordial and apparently sincere, that he at once formed an opinion in
her favour, as indeed he desired to do, though it was more for the sake
of his family as a whole, than for her own.
"I have asked them to dinner," she said, "because we never see anything
of them, any more than if they were not in Rome. Shall we have my father
and the Princess, too? It will make a family party."
"By all means," answered Savelli, who did not enjoy the prospect of
having the Ardens as the only guests, after what had recently passed
between himself and Lord Herbert. "By all means--a family party--a sort
of rejoicing over Arden's recovery."
"Dear Arden!" exclaimed Adele. "I like him now. I used to have the
greatest antipathy for him because he is a cripple, poor fellow! I
suppose that is natural, but I have quite got over it."
"I am very glad," observed Francesco. "You and Laura were brought up
like sisters--there ought never to be any coldness between you."
"Oh, as for Laura, there never has been the least difference since we
were children. We are sisters still, just as we used to be when you
first came to the house. Do you remember, Francesco--four years ago? I
used to think you liked Laura better than me. Indeed I did! It was so
foolish, and now you are always so good to me that I see how silly I
was. It never was true, carissimo, was it?"
"No, indeed!" answered Savelli, with an awkward laugh, and turning away
his face to hide the colour that rose in his cheeks.
"Of course not. And as for Laura, she is so much in love with her
husband that I believe she was dreaming of him even then, before she had
ever seen him, and long before she was old enough to think of marrying
any one. How she loves him! Is it not wonderful?"
Francesco glanced at his wife, and he believed that he was not mistaken
in her. There was a look of genuine admiration almost amounting to
enthusiasm in her face. He suppressed a slight sigh, for he still loved
Laura in his helpless and hopeless way.
"Yes," he said, "it is wonderful, all things considered."
"But then," concluded Adele, "with Arden's beautiful character--well, I
am not surprised."